


The Marauders and the Mandrake Leaves

by byebyebluejay



Series: Mischief Managed: Marauding Stories [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Gen, M/M, Marauders Friendship, Marauders' Era, Sirius Black & James Potter Friendship, goofs, light language and boyish attitude, light mutual pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 12:48:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11486700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byebyebluejay/pseuds/byebyebluejay
Summary: Becoming an animagus demands a lot of rigorous preparation and quite a bit of patience. However, the most challenging part of the task for James, Sirius and Peter is successfully keeping a mandrake leaf in their mouth for a full month. James's decision that they must all become animagi at the same time doesn't help anything.





	The Marauders and the Mandrake Leaves

After several months of charms and communing with nature (Remus had been forced to participate in the chilly, naked runs through the forest, though he was still not sure that any of that was strictly necessary) the Marauders were on the final leg of their journey to become animagi. All that was left were several dozen twice-daily repetitions of the incantation and a potion. Sirius and James were clever enough at potions that no one was too concerned about the brewing, but the ingredients themselves weren’t easily obtained. Most difficult was the mandrake leaf that each of them was going to have to hold in their mouth for a month. Mandrake leaves weren’t in their standard potion supplies, so they were going to have to steal them, but even so, it was still the month-long holding process that Remus was concerned about.

Remus was the one elected to get the mandrake leaves from the greenhouses, though he hadn’t begrudged the other Marauders too much for choosing him. He was the obvious choice. After all, he couldn’t become an animagus so he would naturally fall under somewhat less suspicion than any of the other three if he was found lurking in an advanced greenhouse. But more than that, he was a freshly chosen prefect, and had the cleanest record. If he was spotted, it wouldn’t automatically be assumed that he was up to no good. Sirius or James, if they were discovered, would be interrogated, and no one trusted Peter to sneak properly. Even Peter himself didn’t object to that observation. It turned out to be child’s play for Remus to sneak into Greenhouse Five with James’s invisibility cloak while Professor Sprout was teaching the first years, pluck three mandrake leaves, and return to the castle undetected. Actually using them, as he had feared, was another matter.

“Brilliant,” James said brightly when Remus produced the three fresh mandrake leaves from his pocket in the boy’s dormitory that evening, “So, now all we need is a month and a thunderstorm, and that will be it!”

“Don’t sound so eager, Jammy,” Sirius said, smirking, “We all know you’re going to end up as one of those little barrel shaped bulldogs with an underbite.”

“Alright. But I bet you’ll be one of those tropical birds with the crests they look so proud of. Strutting around.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” 

“I think you’ll be a lion, James,” Peter piped up, “I mean, you’re pretty much the embodiment of Gryffindor, aren’t you?” Sirius snorted, but Peter was undeterred. “What do you think I’ll be?” He asked, bright eyed, accepting a leaf as Remus passed them around, “I hope I’m something big.”

James said, “A hamster,” at the same time as Sirius said, “A golden retriever.”

“I hope I’m a golden retriever,” Peter said, turning the leaf around in his fingers, “Someone might step on me if I were a hamster.”

“The hair works, doesn’t it?” Sirius said, gesturing at Peter’s blond hair, “Anyway, you follow James around sniffing his arse. I think it fits.”

“I don’t!” Peter said. 

James rolled his eyes. “Lay off, Sirius. On three then,” He said as he lifted his leaf like it was a glass of champagne, “One, two, three!” And in unison, Sirius, James and Peter put the leaves on their tongues. Sirius spat it out immediately. 

“Merlin! Remus, you got the wrong plant. This has got to be a bubotuber leaf or something. It tastes like petrol.” Remus shook his head.

“There’s no mistaking a mandrake. That’s a mandrake leaf.” Grimacing, Sirius put the leaf back in his mouth. James was pulling a disgusted face. Peter gagged. “For once I don’t envy any of you.” Remus said, and the dormitory was much quieter than usual as they all settled down for bed. Sirius did not slip into Remus’s bed to talk about the day, or to muse about what animals they would all become, or how much fun they would have once Remus was not the only one of the Marauders with an animal form. 

James woke them up in the morning, bellowing. “Merlin’s saggy left bullock! I must have swallowed it.” Sirius waved a hand at him without lifting his head from his pillow.

“We all swallowed it, James. Go back to sleep.” As it turned out, only Sirius and James had swallowed their leaves. Peter’s was stuck to his cheek. Remus had to return to the greenhouse again that day, and four more times that week. On a daily basis, James, Sirius and Peter lost their leaves. In their morning pumpkin juice, brushing their teeth, laughing, accidentally swallowing it along with their food. Remus was getting concerned that all of the mandrakes would be plucked bare by the time they finally managed to get it right when—at last—they had a perfect week. 

“Three more weeks,” Sirius said to Remus and Peter dreamily as they filled out horoscope charts together in front of the common room fire. Of the three hopeful animagi, he was the only one who had mastered speaking with the mandrake leaf in his mouth. Peter had developed a severe lisp that made Professor Flitwick ask if he had been the victim of an improperly resolved langlock jinx, and James had suddenly decided that silent stoicism was far more in vogue than cracking jokes and whispering in class. His performance in every class involving verbal spellcasting had taken a distinct downward turn. 

“You must be excited to be part-way done with it,” Remus agreed in a low voice. A group of third years was chatting noisily at a nearby table, and some seventh years were playing Exploding Snap on the ground nearby. 

“Oh, yeah. But I didn’t mean that,” Sirius snickered, “I meant, three more weeks of Peter being funny, and James shutting up once in a while.” Remus laughed. Peter looked somewhat affronted and opened his mouth to protest, but had to close it again quickly to manipulate the leaf, before finally managing. 

“I’m funny, sometimes.”

“You are funny, sometimes,” Sirius agreed, clapping Peter on the back, “I was only joking, Pete.” 

“Bad news, I think, boys,” Remus said as the portrait hole swung open to reveal James, who was very red in the face. 

“I can’t believe it!” James said, tugging at his hair, a pained look on his face, “Meeting, upstairs, now. She’ll be in here any minute. I know she will.”

“Who?” Peter asked, bemused. 

“Lily.” Sirius muttered to Remus, looking gray, “Mark my words. And I bet he’s going to—“ 

“Evans,” James said, “Come on, upstairs. We can’t talk about it here.” They trooped upstairs to their dormitory, and James threw himself down on his bed, looking distraught. “Right in front of her,” He said as Peter settled at the foot of his bed, Remus across from him, and Sirius at his side, rubbing his back in broad, firm strokes. 

“Dropped your leaf, didn’t you?” Sirius asked, grim-faced, “What? Did you try to pay her a compliment or something?” 

“Yeah. Dropped the leaf. She had dropped her books, and I was just going to pick them up, and tell her, you know, and it just—Merlin! Dammit.” 

“Oh no,” Peter said, little eyes going round with earnest horror.

“Well, it’s alright, James,” Sirius said, bracingly, “There are more leaves in the greenhouse.”

“She looked at me like I was mental. Asked me what it was. So I told her I had no idea.”

“You told her you had no idea?” Remus asked, trying not to laugh at James’s misfortune, “James. She couldn’t have believed that.”

“I don’t think she did. She gave me a funny look and I just gave her my best smile and she sort of snorted at me and… Leaves out, everyone!” Sirius flashed a quick, meaningful glance at Remus. That must have been what he had been afraid James would do. 

“Be reasonable, James. It was your mistake. Why make all of us suffer? You’re the one who went talking to Lily when you knew you couldn’t keep that stupid leaf in your mouth. I’m sorry, Jammy. You know I am. You know I want you and Lily to… fall in love and snog and have loads of messy-haired kids together, or whatever, but, come on. Don’t set us all back on our quest to help our dear friend, Remus.”

“It’s all of us together, or none of us at all,” James said, pushing himself up into a sitting position, “Come on. Spit it out.” Looking rather disappointed, Peter spat out his leaf and tossed it into the bin. “Sirius,” James prompted, and Sirius, with a great sigh, peeled the mandrake leaf off the roof of his mouth. 

“Alright. All of us or none of us. I’ll go get fresh ones right now, then,” Sirius said, rising to his feet, “I need to walk off this disappointment or I’ll be sulking right alongside you all night, Jamie.” 

“That doesn’t sound too terrible,” James said, scrubbing his face with his hands, but Sirius only clapped him on the shoulder and started for the stairs. He did look less deflated when he returned inside of half an hour with three fresh mandrake leaves for all of them. 

“I don’t know how you do it,” James said in the odd, muffled voice that had become his standard two weeks later, watching as Sirius scarfed down enormous mouthfuls of scrambled eggs and fried tomatoes. Remus had noticed that too. Sirius was unnaturally good at eating and drinking with the mandrake leaf in his mouth. He’d yet to need to reach into the back of his mouth to grab the half-swallowed leaf, as James and Peter seemed to need to do nearly every meal. “How do you make it seem so easy?” Sirius took a gulp of pumpkin juice. 

“Raw talent and lots of practice,” He said, and—making eye contact with a seventh year Hufflepuff girl who had been ogling him—made a crude gesture with his fingers and tongue. She turned scarlet and looked away. James hooted with laughter. Remus pulled a face. 

“Sirius. Is that really necessary?”

“Oh, come on, Remmy. Just having a bit of fun. She was the one gaping at me.”

“She didn’t ask for that. She was just thinking about how handsome you are.” Remus said, and he thought he saw Sirius’s tan cheeks grow a bit pinker.

“I know. And I appreciate the appreciation. But not everyone wants an audience while they’re eating breakfast.” He cast a glance at James, eyes sparkling, but James wasn’t paying the least bit of attention to him. Instead, he was staring at Peter, who was looking green. 

“I’m sorry!” He squeaked, pressing his hands over his mouth, “I swallowed it. I’m so sorry! James, Sirius, I’m so sorry!” James looked crestfallen. Sirius only sighed and ruffled Peter’s hair. 

“It’s alright, Pete. James messed up first. As far as I’m concerned, he has no right to complain. Everybody, out.” And he plucked the leaf from his tongue, and incinerated it with a whisper. 

“Why did you—we don’t all have to take them out.” James protested, but Sirius was grinning like a doxy, all teeth. 

“All or none. Remember, James? All or none.” Frowning, James removed his leaf too. Sirius set back in on his breakfast with obvious relish, and Remus watched him. Something was nagging at him, beyond just the renewed feeling of dread. He had been hoping that next month might be the month when he finally wouldn’t be alone.

“You’re taking this all very much in stride,” He said, watching Sirius. Sirius shrugged

“I’m practicing mindfulness and meditation. The whole ‘incantation as mantra’ thing is really doing something for me. ‘Amato Animo Animato Animagus’.” He intoned. James laughed. Somehow, that seemed dubious to Remus.

“Is that so?”

Sirius shrugged again, “It’s either that, or Snivellus slipped something in my pumpkin juice, and these are the ramblings of a man in Death’s front garden.” And, when Remus raised his eyebrows, Sirius just looked away and started in on his toast. 

Three weeks later, there was a thunderstorm. Remus had curled himself up on one of the window sills in the dormitory reading a book, and James was staring sullenly out the other. Peter was sprawled out on his stomach in his bed, thumbing through the Daily Prophet. 

“I can’t believe it,” James said. He was finally perfecting talking with a mandrake leaf in his mouth at least, “The first thunderstorm in ages, and it’s a week too early.”

“No one’s more disappointed than I am,” Remus said, giving James a wry smile, “I would have loved some company during this month’s full moon. But it’s alright. You’re working on it. Just your acceptance was more than I ever expected from anyone.”

James shook his head, “Everyone should just accept it, Rem! That’s bare minimum. But we’re you’re friends. And it’s taken us ages already. Now it’s taking us even longer. I shouldn’t have made Sirius and Peter take out their leaves because I messed up with Evans.”

“Where is Sirius?” Remus asked, glancing at Sirius’s empty bed, “He wasn’t in History of Magic was he?”

“No. I don’t think I’ve seen him since lunch. This is why we’ve really got to finish that map.”

“What about the two-way mirror?” Peter suggested, glancing up from the classified section. 

“Can try,” James said, turning away from the window to grab his mirror out of his bedside table drawer, looking into it, “Sirius.” There was a long silence. “Sirius!” James called again, and when there was still no reply, he set it back down in his drawer and shrugged.

“Maybe he’s sick,” Peter said, but Remus shook his head.

“I don’t think so.” He looked back down at his book, but he had stopped really reading it. Outside, a bolt of lightning split the sky, and the thunder that followed shook the glass. 

“He’ll be fine, whatever he’s doing,” James said, flopping back down on his bed. 

Sirius’s arrival an hour later was heralded by the sound of wet, bare feet slapping up the stone stairs. Dark hair plastered to his face, grey eyes full of a wild light, he skidded into the dormitory, soaked to the bone and beaming. 

“I did it!”

“Did what?” James and Remus had been playing a game of Wizard’s Chess while Peter looked on, but the minute Sirius appeared at the top of the stairs, James was on his feet, a perfect mirror of every ounce of Sirius’s energy.

“Ah, Jamie,” Sirius threw his arms around James’s shoulders, kissing both of his cheeks before squeezing him in a bone-crushing embrace, “You’re going to be so angry with me. But I had to do it. I had to.”

“What? You didn’t kiss Evans, did you?” 

“What?” Sirius snorted, “No. Of course I didn’t snog Lily. I’m a good wingman. I would never do that. No. But you’ll probably think it’s just as grave an offense.”

“So what?”

“What did you do, Sirius?” Peter asked from the floor. Dragging himself up, Remus grabbed his wand and pointed it at the puddle of water Sirius was accumulating around his feet and cast a drought charm at it. It dried up at once, but left Sirius and James—now also damp—largely untouched. Peter and James were asking the wrong question to work a quick answer out of Sirius, who looked delirious with joy. 

“What’s your form?” He asked, and three sets of eyes focused on him, Sirius’s glittering as he pulled away from James and threw his cold, wet arms around Remus instead. Clammy as he was, Remus hugged him back, his heart throbbing with the same tender warmth he had felt when Sirius had first suggested they become animagi to help him. 

“Watch.” 

Sirius drew away, and his eyes slipped closed. There was a moment of concentration on his face, but then there was a sudden, smooth change. Sirius went down on all fours. Remus got a brief impression of ears and a long muzzle and lots of black fur before Sirius the boy was gone, replaced by a black German Shepard the approximate size of a Newfoundland. Remus doubted he had lost a pound. A great pink tongue lolled out of his mouth and he barked, crouching forward on his front legs before springing up and bowling into Remus. Peter, on his feet too, shrieked with amusement and delight (before pressing his hand over his mouth to prevent his mandrake leaf escaping) as Remus and Sirius tumbled onto the bed, Sirius licking Remus’s face while he was helpless with laughter before leaping onto James’s bed and rolling about in it. James forgot to be annoyed that a wet dog was drying itself off in his sheets.

“It worked! It worked! Banshee tits, Sirius! You’re enormous!” 

Sirius rounded on him, going up on his hind legs so his ears put him just above James in height, putting his paws on James’s shoulders and barking once. The sound reverberated again through the stone chamber, very loudly.

“You’re lucky I’m a prefect,” Remus laughed, “Lily won’t want to come up here to investigate that. She’ll hold me responsible.” 

“We can tell her it was animal crackers if she asks!” James said as he scratched Sirius’s ears, who flopped down heavily on the ground, leg wiggling and tongue still hanging out as James rubbed his stomach, doing a very convincing imitation of a dog. Then, just as quickly as he had transformed, he transformed back, and James was crouching over a guffawing Sirius. It was only then that James seemed to remember that this had not been the plan. “How did you become an animagus when you didn’t have the leaf in your mouth for a month?” He asked, a sour look coming over his face. 

“He must have had the leaf in his mouth after all,” Peter said, and Sirius grinned. 

“I took it out when James messed up over Lily,” He said, “But when I went to get more, I just got four. I had two in my mouth, because I knew one of you two would mess it up again, and I wanted to become an animagus sometime this century.“

“How have you been so good at keeping the mandrake leaf in your mouth?” Remus asked, and at this, a mischievous glint stole into Sirius’s eyes.

“Sticking charm, you dung brains,” He said, sitting up and looking between Peter and James, “I would have told you, but once I figured it out, it was funny watching you struggle.” The effect was instantaneous. Before Sirius had even stopped laughing, James whipped out his wand. 

“Tentaclifors!” A great black tentacle replaced Sirius’s head in a burst of violet light, and Remus got a horrible look at it flopping around before diving for his crib sheet to find the counter-jinx. Once Sirius had been restored to normal, James’s bedsheets had been cleaned and Remus had draped a blanket around Sirius’s shoulders, they all settled down. Sirius helped Peter with his sticking charm, James did his own, and still looking a little bitter, he, Peter, and Remus all settled down into their own beds. Sirius, in dry pajamas at least but still damp-haired and smelling a bit like wet dog, crawled into Remus’s bed and lay with him, shoulder to shoulder, staring up at the ceiling. The back of Sirius’s hand bumped his under the covers, and Remus turned his hand to curl his fingers between the other boy’s. 

“So,” Sirius whispered after a few minutes of quiet, waiting until Peter’s snores and James’s even breathing signaled that the other two Marauders were asleep, “If you wanted, I could join you for the next full moon. Just you and me. What do you think?” The thought made Remus’s chest ache with a terrible longing that he had been trying to suppress ever since James, Peter and Sirius had started working in earnest to become animagi. A hope he didn’t dare to hope; that someday sooner, rather than later, he wouldn’t bite and claw at himself once a month out of sickening frustration and loneliness. It took a lot of self-control not to say yes immediately. 

“Are you sure, Sirius?” Remus asked, “You wouldn’t have backup. I couldn’t turn you into a werewolf, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t still hurt you. I don’t know how the wolf will respond to you. And you might have a hard time getting away from me.” Sirius shrugged.

“Padfoot is as big as a wolf. I think I can manage it. And you said you were lonely, right? Padfoot is similar enough to a wolf that I bet your furry little problem will be happy for the company without too much fuss. Don’t worry so much. I’ll be alright.” 

“Padfoot?” Remus asked, and with a much more self-conscious smile than usual, Sirius glanced away.

“That’s what I’ve decided to call my alter-ego. Since dogs have padded feet. I thought it sounded cool. Maybe you could suggest the nickname to James, so he doesn’t take the piss out of me too badly?”

“Alright. I think I owe you that much.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” There was a sudden flurry of movement, and Sirius threw his arms around Remus, pulling him in tight and warm, as though Sirius were afraid he might melt through the mattress and out of reach. “I’m sorry, Remus,” He murmured into Remus’s shoulder, and Remus shook his head, utterly bemused, the fingers of his free hand finding their way to Sirius’s damp hair. 

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“I do,” Sirius whispered fiercely, “I was being selfish. Laughing over Peter and James struggling wasn’t the only reason I didn’t tell them about the sticking charm. It was my idea—the animagus thing—and I wanted to be the first one to keep you company. I wanted to spend some time alone with you when you’re a wolf. But it wasn’t fair. I might have turned out to be a canary or a poison dart frog or something—“ Remus chuckled at that thought, but Sirius pressed on, undeterred, “—and then I’d just have been forcing you to spend however many more full moons alone. So I’m sorry. Alright?”

“Alright,” Remus agreed, “It’s alright, Sirius. I consider all of this far above and beyond the call of duty anyway. You had no obligation to—“

“Bollocks.”

“You didn’t.”

“I couldn’t let you go through that alone. None of us could.”

“Well, I appreciate it, anyway. And you’re forgiven.” 

“Thank you,” Sirius whispered, and after giving him a final, tight squeeze, he lay back down beside him. “So. You, me, the Shrieking Shack, nightfall in a week in a half?”

“That’s right,” Remus said, “You can wait outside the Whomping Willow until Madam Pomfrey leaves, then poke the knot in the trunk with a stick, or else throw a stone at it, transfigure, then come inside.”

“It’s a— date then,” Sirius said, voice broken by an enormous yawn. Remus was grinning so broadly his cheeks hurt. Sirius fell asleep long before he managed to doze off.


End file.
